Spirit Pact Novels & Stories

Samson behaved himself, not trying to mark or mate Alayla and I have hopes that they can do this more frequently. When we get to the haunted forest, Reagan shifts back, and crouches down in front of Samson. My cocky wolf tries to stick his nose between her thighs, earning him a swat to the nose. “Knock it off, Samson, and listen to me. Do NOT lick the sprites.” He tilts his head at her and even I have to agree this is a very strange request. Why would we lick them? “I don’t know what it is about them that draws wolves to them, but licking a sprite is the same as marking your mate. So, if you don’t want me heading home tomorrow morning, keep your tongue to yourself.”

I’ve only felt this way once—when I first fell for Michael. But not anymore, that love faded. And this? This feels like something else. Something new. The air was quickly filled with Waltz performance "Faults" by Marika Hackman. We moved slowly, enjoying every step. He didn't get his eyes off me, and that made me even want to rest my head on his chest. But no! I dare not. This is the almighty Stefan Andres and I don't want to be the talk of town.

On a clean page, I wrote: WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH ARIA (working theories) Regular Burnout + Forest Vibes – Pros: realistic, boring – Cons: does not explain SHADOW or PULL or ROWAN’S EYES Ghosts – Pros: classic, on brand for creepy houses near woods – Cons: Grandma would’ve bragged if she had actual ghosts Forest Spirit / Shadow Thing – Pros: matches drawings, “it watches the wolfborn first,” silhouette – Cons: what the hell is a wolfborn Cult – Pros: explains hot forest men showing up constantly – Cons: no matching robes, no pamphlets, zero crystals Werewolves – Pros: • Aria hears “pull” • Kai + Rowan = suspiciously agile • Grandma wrote “wolfborn” like it was a real thing

“Now go to sleep. We have to call your mother’s spy planner tomorrow, and we need our energy for the first strategic engagement.” They finally slept, the immense bed suddenly feeling small, their hands still tightly linked, the rhythm of their breathing falling into a synchronized, protective pattern. They were fighting a war, and they were fighting it side by side, their professional alliance slowly, inevitably, dissolving into somethin g deep and terrifyingly real.

He must not know I can see a spirit, but I answered him earlier, I should look in other direction ---GASP---- He held my shoulders tightly, the elderly guy looked at me squarely, as if he sensed my attempt to ignore him. "Don't attempt to ignore me, sweetie!" His face was gradually turning violet, and blood was flowing around his neck. I want to scream, and my mouth is open, but my voice is failing me. I'm terrified; this isn't the first time this has happened to me, but I disregarded it a long time ago. I can't determine if a person is a ghost or not. I screamed at him, "I'm sorry! I can't even see you!" I tried to imagine my dread by closing both of my eyes.

I’m still estranged by this world and everything seems so unreal, it will take time for me to finally adjust to my surroundings. “To call your spirits, you first need to know what type of spirit you are calling. Spirits comes in six types: Air spirit, Earth spirit, Fire spirit, Water spirit, Special spirit and the most dangerous of all, the dark spirit. Usually, spirit users like us are only able to attain three types but, if you’re strong and your body is compatible with all of them, you’ll be able to attain all six but that is a rare case. As for me, I can only call the fire, earth and water spirits. Now, I want you to try calling the earth spirit since we’re in a forest. All you need to d

“As much as I want to hear your voice I don't think my ears could take any more of your hollering.” “YOU SON-OF-A-BITCH! LET ME GO!” Spittle sprayed from his lips as he shouted at my face. But since time was precious, I didn’t wipe it instead I pushed his brother’s tongue on his wide-open mouth before quickly covering it with the duck tape. I stared at him in amusement as he was making a disgusting gagging noise. “It's not that gross you know. Just imagine you're swapping spit with your girlfriend.” His eyes almost bulged from its socket the second I mention a girlfriend. I tilted my head. “I know your girlfriend,” I said in a flat voice.

Her sorrow had become a constant, gnawing ache, and her cries of despair now felt like a burden to those around her every moment even though she had done all the possibilities for this bliss. As the woman's moans grew louder, a man in his forties, holding a torch, approached the dugout, attempting to console her. Unbeknownst to the others, he was surely a spy for the enemy, tasked with identifying aims for their bombers' target. But before he could get close, the distraught woman, sensing his insincerity, slapped him with all her might, knocking him down unconscious. He couldn't bear the blow of a slap, so crumpled to the ground, just as Vicky's elder brother sprang into action, seizing the